


Amnesia (Or don't fuck with Harpies or you'll end up falling for your Bard all over again)

by Jillflur



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship -freeform, Geralt ends up losing his memories, Geralt thinks that 'hmm' is the answer to everything, He's also really horny for his bard, Hurt/Comfort, I mixed elements from the games with the netflix serie, Jaskier's not able to shut up, Jealous!Geralt, Love at First Sight -freeform, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mostly written in Geralt's pov, Secret Relationship -freeform, Sleeping Together, Slow Burn, Some Alpha/Beta/Omega elements, Temporary Amnesia, Touch-Starved!Geralt, bathing together, boys going monster hunting, injured!Jaskier, possessive!Geralt, there is only one bed -trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jillflur/pseuds/Jillflur
Summary: "He doesn't know?" Yennefer asked, eyebrows raised in pure disbelieve.“Of course not! How could I tell him?! Should I just walk up to him and say: ‘Hey, by the way, witcher, we’re fucking and, oh, before I forgot we’re kind of soulmates too'!?"“Yes! Exactly!”OrGeralt loses his memories during a fight with a harpy and Jaskier is slowly going insane.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 81
Kudos: 1286





	1. A Rough START

Slowly, almost gingerly, the witcher became aware of the sounds around him. First, they were muted as if he was under water. It was almost soothing, the man not yet wanting to fully step back into the world of the living. But soon, too soon, the sound got louder and louder. Drumming in his ears all around him. He became aware of the different noises around him. The before humming tunes turning into voices shouting into his ears.

He could hear it all.

Birds singing.

Leaves rustling in the wind.

A horse, Roach, his mind added unhelpfully, whining somewhere to his right.

A voice, male, shushing his temperamental mare before the man returned to humming silently under his breath, the soft tunes of a lute accompanied his voice.

Under other circumstances the witcher might find the soft tunes comforting but not today, not right now! His head felt like it would split in two, all his senses seemed to be into overdrive. Even with his eyes tightly closed they still burned from the bright light of the morning sun from somewhere behind his eyelids. His nose picked up every scent around him, flowers, trees, smoke, the male sitting somewhere next to him, the horse, even an hour old deer track. 

A low growl escaped the witcher, alerting not only the man sitting next to him who instantly stopped humming but also the horse, which neighed loudly at the sound of her Master’s voice. 

“Geralt?” the unfamiliar (yet somewhat familiar?) voice called out, far too loudly and only agitating the witcher’s sensitive ears even more.

He grumbled again, louder this time, more firmly. His hands balled into fists at his sides, pushing into the dirt underneath him. 

“Geralt?!” the voice spoke up again and the mutated human couldn’t help but find it somewhat annoying. How could the soft, soothing humming from before turn into such a high pitched whining? Then, out of nowhere and far too suddenly for the witcher liking, a hand settled down on his shoulder. Instantly he jerked up, tearing the hand away from his shoulder with one hand while the other moved behind his shoulder to pull out his steel sword only to come up empty.

Where the fuck were his swords?!

He turned his head down, away from the bright sunlight and finally opened his eyes. A grumble left his lips, the world somewhat dizzy on the edges but it didn’t stop him from looking around for his missing swords. His eyes moving around the simple camp noticing the two bags leaning against a tree trump, one spilled out hurriedly, bottles containing colorful potions laying around. He noticed the fire burning not far away from him, a brown horse standing next to a tree staring at him and then, finally, he saw his swords leaning against a tree behind the horse. 

Too far away. No witcher ever slept without their swords by their side.

He was about to get up and pick up his swords when he registered the nervous stuttering right in front of him. Somehow he forgot about the man, his amber eyes moved to his own hand still holding the man’s wrist in a death grip before his eyes locked on the fidgeting male sitting next to him. Far too close and far too loud.

“-and, okay I get- I get it! It, maybe, wasn’t my smartest idea to touch a grumbling witcher in his sleep. But- but you have to understand my perspective too, dear witcher! I- you were unconscious for hours! Hours! You can’t get angry with me for being worried about you! You hear me? Heeeeellooo? Geralt? I-”

“Shut up.”

“Oh. Oh. Oh, so that’s what I get for saving your pretty bottom from that crazy thing? Really, Geralt? I thought we were past this- Hey! Ow! Geralt that fucking hurts!”

“I said. Shut. Up.” He pulled the man closer, tightening his hold on his wrist until he heard the sound of bones squeezing together, almost breaking. The man looked at him with wide, crystal blue eyes. They reminded him of a clear winter sky or the sea on a sunny day, deep and hiding secrets that Geralt would never be able to reach.

The man stared at him, not fearfully or scared but clearly frustrated with the witcher's behavior. He could see a shimmer of nervousness behind the blue flecks but it was no were near as bad as the looks other humans would give him whenever he stumbled into an inn or when he walked through a village in search of a competent blacksmith.

No, for some unknown reason the human didn’t seem to be scared of him. It was an uncommon enough reaction (even more so from a total stranger) that he jerked back slightly, wanting to put distance between them.

“Uh-” the man’s tongue stumbled, “Urgh, you’re unbelievable Geralt of Rivia!” the man shouted into his face, not angrily, no… he almost sounded worried. He moved his free hand through his brown, soft looking hair, before moving the hand to his captured wrist trying to pry the witcher’s fingers off his now bruised wrist. His blue eyes settled on his hands, breaking their uncomfortable staring contest, “So, _uff_ , this is what I get for protecting you! For, urgh- _oh my god let me go already_ \- for worrying about you! You. Stupid. Old. Arse!”

The witcher had enough of the man’s loud shuffling and even louder voice, so with a roll of his eyes and an angry grunt he grabbed the man’s other hand and pushed him down onto the ground. The man let out a gasp, eyes widening, once again meeting the witcher’s cat-like pupils. The witcher settled down between the man’s legs, the hold on wrists tightening until the man let out another, this time, painful grunt and closed his eyes. For the first time he sensed the distinct scent of fear coming off the man and for some unknown and unreasonable reason the witcher didn’t like it.

His nose twitched, a feral part of his mind wanting to curl around the man and sooth him with his own smell. The thought came so unexpected that the witcher let out another grunt and shook his head as if he could shake the thought out of his mind.

The man underneath him let out another pained breath, mouth opening and closing several times before finally a sound escaped his soft lips, “G-Geralt? You can be angry at me later, for whatever reason, but first, I wanna ask- Are you alright? Geralt?”

The witcher couldn’t help but stare down at the man in utter confusion. Of course he understood what the man was saying but the context of it all slipped through his hands. Was the man asking him if he was alright? People don’t ask him if he was ‘okay’, they run away and throw stones at him, not worrying about his well being. 

And then there was the problem with the name the stranger uttered over and over again.

_Geralt.. That was his name, right?_

The witcher wasn’t sure… it sounded right, and yet he couldn’t recall a singly memory where he used it.

“I…” The witcher trailed off awkwardly, the hold of the man’s hands softening before completely letting go so he could tangle them into his own white, long hair. 

“Geralt?” the man asked again, uncertainty but his worried tone clearly seeped through. He leaned up slowly, both his arm lifting up as if to touch the witcher but stopping midway. He didn’t speak up again, clearly waiting for the mutated human to pick up the conversation.

“...Fuck…” was the only thing that came to his mind.

The unfamiliar man let out a somewhat amused huff, a slight grin on his lips, “Okay, big guy-” Geralt let out a deep growl at the nickname, “You,” the man swirled a finger over the witcher’s form, “are clearly not fine.”

The witcher let out another grunt. Why he decided to communicate with the annoying man was beyond him. For some reason he felt obliged to give the man a response even if it were only grunts and huffs. For an even stranger reason the man seemed to be satisfied with Geralt’s growls as if he could compose entire sentences from the short, angry sounds. His amber eyes moved down to the man’s lips, watching a tongue peek out, licking over the impossible soft looking lips and-

When the fuck did he get so sentimental? 

And yet, Geralt couldn’t move his eyes away from the sight. The man must have noticed it too because his grin turned into a downright filthy smirk, showing his pearly white teeth, “Not that I hate all your attention on my lips -I know they are irresistible- but my eyes are up here, dear witcher!” forcing his eyes up, Geralt looked up into the blue, blue depth that were the man’s eyes and suddenly he didn’t know what he liked more. The man’s soft lips or his eyes that showed a carefree and friendly soul. As their eyes met, the man turned somewhat serious again, his smirk turning into a soft smile. The man only hesitated a second before he placed a -oh so soft- hand on Geralt’s cheek, his thumb caressing the skin under his mutated eyes, “What’s wrong, Geralt? Talk to me…”

Geralt felt as if he was under a spell of a siren. The man captured his entire attention, turning his angry growls into soft rumbles. He relaxed under his hands and not for the first time Geralt wondered if the man in front of him was a mage and somehow succeeded in pulling Geralt into a trance, turning him into a puppet on strings.

Moving his eyes up and down the man’s long, lithe body the witcher came up with the first question that sprang to his mind.

“Hmm...who’re you?”

The man’s comical face could have made him (almost) smirk in another situation but Geralt was far to desperate to understand what the actual fuck was going on.

Geralt watched the man, Jaskier as he learned, walk around the camp in long, frustrated steps. Up and down, he went, up and down. Geralt almost felt dizzy just watching the man move around like a startled deer. Jaskier had his hands in his hair, tousling it around until it resembled more a crows nest than any normal hairstyle. Once in a while he would glance at Geralt with nervous eyes while biting his lips, staring at him as if he would just magically gain back his lost memories.

The bard stopped for the fifth time in under a minute, “And- And you’re sure -I mean really sure- that you don’t know how this-” he pointed his hands at Geralt’s entire form, the witcher almost felt hurt by the gesture, “happened?” his tone picking up a comedic high.

Geralt gave him a deadpan stare, “Hmm.” was all he said, all but done with answering the same question over and over again. Jaskier seemed to understand all the same, his teeth biting into his lips until he bled. Geralt's nose instantly detected the metallic smell of the bard’s blood, it curled around him like an uncomfortable blanket, choking him.

“Fuck…” Jaskier muttered, averting his eyes to the ground, “This, indeed isn’t good at all…What should we do?” he muttered the last part under his breath but Geralt heard it all the same, as clear as if it was talked right into his ear.

“ _We_?”

This time Jaskier glared at him, a sudden fire behind his eyes that Geralt couldn’t understand where the source came from. The man took a step closer to Geralt, hurt flashed in his eyes, “Of course _‘We’_ , Geralt! I could-- As if I could ever walk away from you like this! You’re my- my-” The man swallowed his next words, the fire in his eyes disappeared as suddenly as it came. He looked away, hands moving around awkwardly.

Geralt wanted to ask but something was holding him back. He didn’t know the man, not this him anyway, so it wouldn’t feel right to ask about his personal struggles. Whatever the man wanted to say, it wasn’t for the ears of the Geralt in front of him but another one, the one from a few hours ago that still had all his memories.

Suddenly, Geralt felt awfully far away from the bard as if a canyon suddenly appeared between them. Clearly splitting them apart from each other.

Geralt didn’t know what to say, didn’t really want to say anything, so he stayed silent.

“Please ignore my sudden outburst, my friend” the human finally choked out after several seconds of uncomfortable silence, “I don’t know what came over me…”

The witcher let out a soft grunt in response.

“Maybe, this is of course only a presumption, but maybe your memory loss has something to do with the last beast you successfully slayed.” the bard had a hand on his chin, eyes focusing on something over Geralt’s shoulder.

“What beast?”

“Uuuh, it- it had the body of a bird, maybe an eagle and the face of an old, ugly woman!” Jaskier explained, “Only saw it from a far distance, you didn’t want me anywhere near it.” his voice turned soft towards the end.

Geralt lifted an eyebrow at the man’s sudden shyness, “Hmm… sounds like a harpy.” if that is true then Geralt was indeed in deep shit. His hands curled into fists on his lap trying to calm down his storming thoughts. Harpies are savage beasts, scavenging on dead bodies and often attacking travelers while they sleep. Their claws could tear up a knight’s armor and their wings have enough strength to lift up three grown men at once. But their worst characteristics are the beasts eyes, they can make a man hallucinate or fall into a trance and especially powerful harpies can penetrate a person's mind so deeply that they go insane or even forget certain memories. 

Somehow, the harpy succeeded in erasing most of his previous memories. Somehow he still knew that he was a witcher, traveled around the land for some time, he could even remember his horse’s name. But other memories, simpler ones, like his name, age, and the last contract he took, he couldn’t recall.

Geralt felt lost.

He looked back up to his supposedly ‘best friend’. Geralt still wanted to let out a growl at the title. He didn’t do _‘friends’_ , fuck, he couldn’t even walk into an inn without getting deaths glares from every direction. How the fuck did he end up with some bard as his friend

“Fuck…”

“ _‘Fuck’_?! Oh stars, that doesn’t sound good!” Jaskier looked around with wild eyes, arms fidgeting at his sides as if he wanted to reach out and touch the witcher, “Please tell me you aren’t about to die in my arms!”

“No.”

“Oh! Oh good! Splendid!” the bard didn’t sound relieved, “Now, could you at least tell me what the fuck is going on in that empty skull of yours?!” Jaskier didn’t even flinch at the death glare the witcher sent him. The young man just let out another huff, giving the older man his own displeased expression..

Grumbling under his breath, Geralt stood up and walked towards his horse. His hands shook with the need to hit the man in the balls but a small yet firm part of his mind screamed at him not to hurt him in any way.

Ignoring his traitorous mind and the bard’s annoying voice, he walked around Roach to pick up his forgotten swords and fasten them on his back. He turned towards his horse, patting her on the snout affectionately.

“Geralt? I’m speaking to you! Don’t ignore me, Witcher!” Jaskier walked closer to him at one point, watching him pat his horse with a confused expression, “What are you doing?!”

“What does it look like?” Geralt gave him a brief glance before walking around the bard to pick up the saddle and fix it on Roach back.

“Uhh, like you have lost your damn memories??? _Maybe_?”

Geralt only gave a low rumble in reply, he couldn’t help the roll of his eyes at the man’s high, squeaking voice, “I’m setting off. Can’t stay here.”

Jaskier stopped the witcher from jumping up on his horse with a hand on his shoulder. He quickly let go at the icy stare he received but firmly planted himself in front of Roach so the man couldn’t ride away, both his hands twisted into the horse’s mane. And for some God forsaken reason Roach let the man hug her. If he remembered correctly, Roach never let anyone near her that wasn’t Geralt. Maybe the harpy not only erased his memories but also twisted them around.

“Oh no! You, my dear Witcher, are not riding away into the sunset while you’re sick-”

“I’m. Not. Sick.”

The bard ignored his angry growls and continued without a care in the world, “-and not explaining anything to me! You know how you lost your memories! Tell me, now!” Jaskier’s voice was strong and sure, eyes not looking away from the witcher’s hateful glare. Only the boy’s shaking hands gave away how nervous he actually felt. Then, like a dam broke, Jaskier’s expression fell. His lips wobbled, eyebrows turning down, a glassy sheen glimmering in his eyes, “Please, Geralt, just tell me what is going on...Trust me?” he whispered the last part, already knowing that Geralt didn’t trust him but still trying.

Geralt’s mouth opened, voice spilling out before his mind could catch on, “The harpy… it erased my memories…”

Jaskier just stared at him, waiting for him to go on.

“Hmm… it-” he huffed, eyes looking into the forest around them instead of the bard’s sad expression, “It can erase memories with its eyes. I don’t remember if there is an antidote.” he finally admitted into the clearing, waiting for the man to speak up. Why he trusted the bard was a mystery layered in more mysteries. For some reason, a sixth sense, something inside of him wanted to open up to him as if it was something normal. Geralt hated it.

“Fuck…” Jaskier breathes fingers stroking through the mare’s mane absentmindedly.

“Hmm.”

“How the fuck are we going to fix this?”

Geralt didn’t reply. He didn’t have an answer.

In the end it was Jaskier that came up with a possible solution. Some woman, a friend he told him, could be able to help them. Luckily they met her a few towns over on their way to kill the harpy so it wouldn’t be too hard to find her again, hopefully. 

This is how they ended up riding, or in Jaskier’s case walking, towards a small town, the bard talking next to him like an endless stream, never stopping. It wouldn’t take more than three days to reach the town, according to Jaskier. Geralt hoped it was true, he didn’t know how much longer he could bear the man’s endless chatter without killing him.

An annoying voice inside his head peeped up, telling him, if he really wanted to get away from the bard he could always ride away. But something stopped him from doing just that.

His amber eyes glanced up at the blue sky, watching the clouds pass by while he tried to ignore the bard’s voice. An impossible task as he found out.

“- you’ll like her, Yennefer, I mean, you get along well,” Jaskier’s voice broke at the end, eyes glancing at Geralt every few seconds, “She can be a little wild and...dark. But I’m sure she’ll be happy to help us out!”

“Hmm” Geralt replied, his only kind of response since they started their journey. The bard didn’t seem unsettled by the man’s unenthusiastic tone, a friendly smile adoring his lips. His face always brightened whenever Geralt let out any kind of sound. Why was the bard so happy about Geralt abnormally bad conversation skills?

“-and then she went all mad, trying to capture the djinn inside her. The whole scene was really unsettling, I tell you.” Geralt Didn't even notice that the bard had moved on, telling another story about this ‘Yennefer’, “It was the first time we met her. I guess if it wasn’t for my stupidity I wouldn’t have ended up hurt and we would have never came across her. You should thank me for it, witcher.” he smirked up at him, blue eyes sparkling in the sun.

Geralt couldn’t help but look away from the beautiful sigh, his heart beating faster even though he wasn’t fighting or running away from a monster. The witcher frowned, not understanding the unreasonable reactions towards the simple bard.

“Hmm”

From the corner of his eyes, he could see the man’s smirk turning soft, a melancholic look in his eyes while he watched the witcher ride steadily on his mare. Something passed over the bard’s face that Geralt couldn’t identify. It was gone in the next second as if it never happened.

Jaskier gripped his lute firmly, fingers dancing over the strings, creating a soft almost sad melody.

A comfortable silence settled around them, the sound of Jaskier’s lute and Roach hoof steps pulling him into a peaceful trance.

Geralt closed his eyes when a strange buzzing feeling overcame him, his head throbbing as if something wanted to get out. The next moment he was plunged into darkness, a forgotten memory returning to him.

_"And yet, here we are…" Jaskier said, crystal blue eyes staring deeply into his own._

The memory vanished, replaced with another…more unpleasant one.

_"And then, what happened?" Geralt could make out Jaskier's annoying voice from outside the inn._

_"He died…" another male spoke up, several others gasping at the man's admission. Geralt couldn't help but roll his eyes, his blood soaked hand moving towards the door handle._

_"Eeeeh, he's fine," he heard Jaskier say through the rattly, old wooden door. He sounded so sure… Geralt frowned when he felt a familiar tugging feeling inside his chest._

_"Look, I was there! I saw it with my own-"_

_In the end, Geralt decided to kick the door open (Jaskier always said that he could be a little… over dramatic at times). He had about enough of people talking about his 'heroic' deeds. He just wanted to get his damned coins and a warm bath._

It was far too soon when the bard stopped playing, throwing Geralt back into reality in the process.

He let out a small gasp, eyes looking around the dirty road. Somehow the sky had turned dark above them, stars coming to live in the night sky. The last rays of sun were disappearing behind the snowy mountains in the far distance, casting the road and forest in dark, foreboding shadows.

He heard the bard sniff next to him while he put the lute back around his back. Glancing at the clumsy man he noticed his slow pace and his blue tinted fingers. The bard was clearly tired and cold.

Geralt shouldn’t be bothered by the bard’s suffering, shouldn’t feel guilty for walking non stop without a break. Yet he did. So much for being an emotionless witcher… Grunting he stopped the mare, also causing Jaskier to stop, the man looking up at him in confusion.

“We are stopping,” he said before jumping down from the horse and leading her over to the side of the road into the dark forest. His eyes had no problem seeing in the pitch darkness but he could tell that the bard was having trouble finding his way around, stumbling over rocks and roots and sometimes over nothing. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed Jaskier’s bicep and led him towards a random direction. They stopped when he was sure that they were far enough from the road so that no unfortunate bandits could see the campfire, and attack them while they slept. Letting go of the man so he could bind Roach reins around a tree, he noticed that the bard had been uncharacteristically quiet since they entered the forest.

Glancing over he could see the man watching him, his high cheekbones tinted red, eyes fixed on the witcher’s hands still fastening the reins around the tree. After several seconds of uncomfortable staring, Geralt had enough, grunting at the man to get his attention (the man jerking up, his cheeks turning down right flushed) he told him to gather wood for the fire. The bard huffed at him but walked away non the less.

“Some things always stay the same, with and without memories…” Jaskier grumbled.

Geralt ignored the confusing words, instead busied himself with putting down his armor and swords so he could be more comfortable while he slept.

It wasn't long until the bard returned carrying a stack of wood in his arms. He dumped it in front of Geralt, letting out a long sigh as if gathering wood was the most difficult task in the world.

Ignoring the man's dramatics, he built a small campfire before enlightening it with a swift igni sign. The fire roared to life and the bard quickly huddled closer to the warmth. The young man hugged his arms around himself, trying to get some feelings back into his numb body. But even with the warm fire Jaskier still shuddered from the cold night air. 

Maybe Geralt was right when he told him to dress more warmly before they began their journey…. Not that he would ever give the witcher the satisfaction of being right.

After eating some bread both decided it was time to get some rest. They laid down on opposite sides of the fire, Geralt trying and failing to fall asleep. The Bard's shuddering breaths and shattering teeth kept him awake.

He heard the man huff silently, "...I really didn't miss sleeping alone…" Jaskier mumbled into the night air, his words coming out bitter and sad.

Geralt turned his back to the fire, closing his eyes and hoping to finally find some rest.

Half an hour later and Geralt was still wide awake. Jaskier, at some point, managed to fall asleep, his breath coming out in small huffs. Once in a while he would shudder in his sleep, eyebrows furrowed while he tried to curl more into himself to gather some much needed warmth.

Soon, Geralt couldn't bear the man's shuddering breaths anymore and silently stood up. He moved around the fire, hovering over the sleeping bard like a monster praying over his next victim. Taking off his dark grey fur coat he pulled it over the man's body. A small smile formed on Jaskier's lips, a happy sigh escaping him before curling further into the coat. 

Geralt snorted at the sight, a warm feeling boiling in his chest. Even though he doesn't remember anything about the bard he couldn't help but feel somewhat fond of him.

Going back to his side of the fire, he laid back down and closed his eyes, finally able to fall asleep.

"Urgh...whaa?"

The sound of Jaskier's confused voice tore Geralt away from his task which consisted of staring into the fire and brooding silently.

He watched the bard sit up Geralt's coat falling into his lap. Jaskier glanced down at the fur dumbly, fingers moving over it.

"Your coat?" Jaskier asked as if the answer wasn't obvious.

The witcher answered without looking up from the flames, "You were freezing." He said, not really explaining anything.

"Uh… thank you." The Bard's voice sounded bashful.

Geralt looked up, meeting Jaskier's beautiful eyes. The man's face looked delicate in the early morning light. Soft brown hair tousled from sleep, sticking out in odd directions. In other words, Jaskier looked soft… vulnerable. It made something feral in Geralt's chest lift up it's head, wiggling around and ready to pounce on the unexpected man. Geralt quickly swallowed the feeling, averting his eyes once again.

He couldn't believe he was lusting after the annoying bard. Was he really so pent up? When was the last time he visited a pup? Maybe he should visit one the next time an opportunity yields itself.

He could feel Jaskier's eyes boring into him, "Did you sleep at all or only sat there and brooded like a sad widow all night long?"

"Hm"

"Thought so. Tell me, what is it your big head is struggling with?"

"Hm, thinking." _About all my lost memories_ , he didn't add.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, "I forgot how much of a stuck up ass you were before we..." he trailed off averting his gaze to the campfire, a hot flush on the man's cheeks, "Anyway," Jaskier stood up, Geralt's coat hanging over his shoulders. The soft fabric seemed to swallow the man's small body. If Geralt was drunk he might call the sight cute, "We should continue our journey soon. I want my favorite Witcher back. Not that this version of you is not lo- likable! Brings back old memories!" He continued a playful grin on his face.

Geralt didn't answer but stood up to put out the fire. While Geralt fastened his swords on his back and put on his armor he noticed the bard fidgeting next to him. His hands were twisting around Geralt's coat still trapped around his shoulder, a blush high on his cheek most likely from the cold morning air (winter wasn't far away).

"Thanks again, dear- ehm, my dear friend!" He squeaked eyes looking at everything but the witcher, "You can have your coat back now, I feel bad for selfishly hoarding it all night long..." Jaskier was about to take off the coat but Geralt stopped him.

"No need. Keep it. It's cold outside and you're clearly not dressed correctly for this weather." One corner of his lips lifted up in a teasing smirk. He walked past the man towards Roach, the horse waiting patiently for him.

The bard stuttered behind him, stumbling gracelessly over his words, "But- But what about you? Won't you be cold?"

"I'll be fine."

Jaskier let out a huff, "Ah, I forgot your witchers are almost immune to anything, even the bitter cold." It didn't sound mocking, maybe impressed, Geralt couldn't tell, "But if you get the flu don't come complaining to me." Jaskier sang already walking back towards the road.

Geralt looked up to the blue sky, a low hum coming from his chest, "How the fuck did I end up with this bard?" He asked Roach. The mare gave him a look, "Hm, you're right, I have to find out myself it seems." He jumped up on his horse slowly trotting behind the bard who already took out his lute and was singing to the morning light, his warm breaths slowly condensing towards the sky.

Geralt served himself a moment of peace and closed his eyes. Listening to the bard's lovely voice.

Of course his peace couldn't last long. Far too soon, the bard stopped singing and instead used his voice to talk Geralt's head off. After two hour of endless, annoying chattering, Geralt stopped responding with his occasional growls and huffs. He couldn't keep up with the man's conversation. The bard jumped and skipped in between stories, his voice getting awfully loud and high at times when he reached a particular excited point in his tale. He would start moving around his arms in ridiculous motions as if he could reconstruct whatever beast he and Geralt fought against in his stories. And sometimes Jaskier would stop mid step to pull out his lute to play one of the songs he created for Geralt, most of them talking about his heroic deeds and the beasts they encountered on their long journey. 

Songs Geralt couldn't remember... couldn't recall ever living through the stories the bard told him about. They felt like a distant dream, something that might have happened.

"-we didn't travel together for several months. When we finally stumbled into each other in a rattly, old tavern our reunion got rather emotional. Even some maiden let out their tears at the sight of us together." A peaceful look adored Jaskier's face, a small, private smile hidden behind Geralt's coat, "It's one of my favorite memories." The man admitted at last, a light blush traveling up his cheeks.

"Hm...why?" It was the first time Geralt spoke up in a long time. Jaskier also seemed shocked, eyes moving up and down the witcher's face. Was it so unusual for him to listen to the bard's chatter?

He glanced at Jaskier when the bard didn't say anything for several seconds. The sight he was greeted with made his next breath stuck in his throat. 

The bard's face was bright red, reminding him of a particular ripe tomato. He had his lute clenched tightly against his chest, trying to hide his red face with it while trying not to look ridiculous by doing so. Geralt lifted an eyebrow at the man's strange reaction. Did he say something wrong?

His chest constricted at the thought. It wasn't his goal to offend Jaskier. The man might be an annoying prick at times but he only showed Geralt patience and understanding since the witcher woke up without half of his memories.

"Did…" Geralt didn't know how to apologize to someone but he tried to force out the words, "Did I say something wrong? If so, I-"

"Nooooooo, no!" Jaskier interrupted him, swinging his lute around awkwardly, "It's just- Maybe that story is better suited for another time…?" the bard squeaked out, head turning away but Geralt could still see the blush traveling further up his face.

"Hmm… ok?"

"Good! Fine! Good!" The bard repeated and walked further ahead so he wouldn't have to look at Geralt's confused expression. His shaking hands curled around his lute, starting another song about their adventures that Geralt couldn't remember.

The witcher couldn't help but feel awfully lost in that moment.

Soon the road split into two directions, one leading to the West the other to the East. They stopped in front of the crossroad, the bard looking back and forth.

"Which direction, bard?" Geralt grumbled but he already had the suspicious feeling that Jaskier didn't know either. 

"Uhhh...to tell the truth, I'm never the one to lead the way on our heroic quests. Most of the time I just follow you around wherever you go…" he fumbled with his lute, giving the witcher a guilty glance.

Geralt groaned towards the sky, "Like a lost puppy."

"Hey! For your information our partnership is built on reciprocity and trust!"

"Hm"

"I can see that you don't believe me, Witcher, but you dearly respect me for my special talents! You tell me so a lot!" He grinned proudly one hand over his chest as if he was cradling something precious. _Happy memories…_ Geralt's mind peeped up unhelpfully.

"Hm" he repeated, clearly not believing the bard at all. 

"Oooh, oooooooh! Wow! You can be happy about the fact that I know you love me or I would have hit you with the lute of mine long ago!"

"What?!" He stared at the bard with wide eyes. Jaskier's face paling after he realized what he just said.

"What…?" Jaskier squeaked back, eyes not meeting the witcher's.

"Jaskier what the fuck-"

"Oh! Look at this! I just remembered! The right road is the one leading East!" The bard yelled, all but running away from Geralt. Geralt growled darkly before catching up to the stumbling bard.

"Tell me, what you meant by that, Jaskier."

"It-it was just a stupid joke! Don't think about it! We do it all the time, haha!" He didn't look at the other, Geralt could hear his heart skipping several beats a clear indication that he was lying. And yet he didn't call the other man out on it. Jaskier felt uncomfortable talking about his slip up. And Geralt…

Geralt didn't even know how to convey his feelings properly. There was no way in hell he could talk about them with the bard.

In the end, the witcher only grunted and let the topic fall.

He felt a painful tug in his chest when he heard Jaskier relieved sigh. 

Maybe he read the situation wrong. After all, there was no way someone as lovely as Jaskier could fall in love with a Witcher…

“Finally! Some other humans!”

Geralt almost, almost snorted at the man’s over dramatic behavior. Jaskier indeed chose the right direction and they finally reached the first village on their long journey. Only a few more days and they would arrive at the small town where this ‘Yennefer’ stayed for a while.

They slowly made their way into the village, the bard looking around excited, most likely searching for the next best tavern or inn.

“Where was it… ah! There!” Jaskier walked towards an old tavern right across from a slightly bigger inn. Geralt looked up at the building, trying to see if he could remember his surroundings… but no, everything was unfamiliar, no lost memory thundering into his mind.

While Geralt pulled Roach into a stable he not only saw but also felt Jaskier vibrating next to him. Even a blind man could see that the man was overly excited about eating some warm meals and socializing with people. Jaskier was drumming his fingers on his precious lute while he waited for Geralt to follow him.

“Come on, Geralt! I’m going to starve if I don’t order some food soon.”

Geralt grumbled unhappy, eyes looking up at the orange tinted sky (not for the first time asking himself how he got into this fucked-up situation) before turning around and following the smiling bard inside the tavern. Jaskier was still wearing his long, grey coat so there was no way Geralt could hide his appearance from the townspeople. Mentally preparing himself for verbal and physical harassment he opened the old tavern door.

The large room fell silent for a second, everyone looking at the strange newcomers before the conversation picked up again but distinctly quieter. Some people gave them curious stares while others grit their teeth when the witcher walked by. Geralt ignored it all, even with forgotten memories, he was still used to people’s disdain for his kind.

Together they sat down at a table in a far corner, Geralt sitting with his back to the wall so he had a good view of the entire room. Jaskier sat down across from him, a bright smile on his face while he watched the witcher brood in his seat, “Sheer up, my friend! Today we can dine like champions and get the comfort of a real bed! Maybe we can even get you a much needed bath!” he wrinkled his nose but didn’t drop his teasing smile.

“Hm.”

“Uff, you are such a Sour-witcher…” Jaskier leaned his head against his hand, face falling into a bored expression, “The last time you spoke so little to me was a long time ago…I miss-” Jaskier stopped, swallowing whatever words he wanted to let out. He let out a tired sigh before standing up to get them some food.

Geralt watched him go, eyes boring into the bard. For the first time he clearly saw how much the situation got to Jaskier. The man was good at keeping up a happy facade but the long travel creaked it open like it was a cheap vase which fell down thousands of times. His keen nose could pick up the bard’s sore scent from a mile away, he was sulking and Geralt didn’t know how to fix it.

Not only couldn’t he endure the man’s sad stench, seeing Jaskier’s glassy, blue eyes tugged at something deep inside Geralt’s chest. Something he was sure he had lost forever when he swallowed down mutagenic compounds back when he still lived among the walls of Kaer Morhen.

Soon, Jaskier came back with two bowls of something warm and edible. He pushed the second bowl over to the witcher, Geralt grumbled a ‘thanks’ before digging into the meal. The bard gave him a soft, sincere smile before turning to his own soup. Of course the silence between them didn’t last long. Jaskier picked up their previous conversation, but changed it to a more carefree topic. He talked about a dragon egg they protected, a Bruxa on a secluded island that almost killed them both, a pack of mutated wolves following them all the way to Novigrad and several other adventures Geralt couldn’t recall. Yet he listened to the bard, sometimes giving a short answer or grunt whenever the man expected one.

It was almost too easy talking to Jaskier. The man seemed to pick up every change on Geralt’s grumpy face and understood the witcher even if the man only used inhuman growls and grumbles to communicate instead of real words. Jaskier knew him like the back of his hand. Could, most likely, sing a song about him while he slept.

It made him wonder how long they have known one another. How long he had been Geralt’s friend.

“How long have we been friends, you ask?”

Geralt grunted, finally finding a chance to ask the bard after he finished his last tale about some Kikimore that swallowed the witcher whole and soaked him in it’s guts and blood. He glared at the man for using the term _‘friend’_.

“How long…” Jaskier averted his eyes from him, looking around the room as if it held the answer to his question. It shouldn’t be a difficult question and yet the bard struggled to find the right answer.

Did the bard forget too?

“A few years, 13 I believe.” Jaskier’s heart thumbed loudly in his chest, catching the attention of Geralt’s sensitive ears. He was lying. For what reason, Geralt couldn’t tell. The man didn’t seem to have a problem answering any other questions about their travels but as soon as the topic changed to their relationship the bard closed up.

“Hm, I see.”

Jaskier knew that Geralt knew that he was lying through his teeth. The nervous man began to sweat under his icy stare, fingers drumming a fast rhythm on the table. Suddenly, Jaskier stood up, Geralt’s grey coat fluttering around him. “I-I’ll get some more ale.” he stuttered before all but fleeing from the witcher’s accusing stare.

Geralt growled under his breath unsatisfied about how the conversation ended. The bard kept something from him, something important that he didn’t want the witcher to find out about. What could be so important that he didn’t want Geralt to find out? Jaskier seemed like the type to spill more personal secrets than necessary. He was a bad liar, couldn’t keep one up if his life depended on it and yet he tried with the white wolf that could easily see through it.

Geralt shifted in his seat so he could keep an eye on his traveling partner. If he learned one thing from Jaskier’s stories, it was that the man got into trouble wherever they went. Luck never was on the bard’s side. And as if destiny listened to him, he saw a tall, beautiful woman approaching Jaskier with a look that screamed pure lust. The woman put a hand on the counter near Jaskier’s body, Geralt’s coat the only thing stopping her from touching Jaskier’s skin directly. The lithe man looked up at the stranger, a confused expression adoring his face.

Jaskier said something to the tall woman and Geralt had to strain his ears to hear whatever conversation was going on between them, the loud sounds of people drinking, eating and talking, making it difficult to make out Jaskier’s soft voice.

“-help you?”

“You sure can, sweetie.” she said eyes looking up and down his body. Jaskier turned towards the woman, hiding his face from his view, “I saw you walk in here with the witcher, caught my attention right away.”

“I-”

The woman moved closer, stopping whatever words Jaskier wanted to say. She pressed her chest against his body, a shocking sound escaping Jaskier’s lips. Something inside Geralt’s chest flared up, coming alive with an angry growl. He had to bite his inner cheek from growling out loud.

“I heard about your songs, you’re leading a really exciting life, bard.” she laughed under her breath a hand reaching out towards Jaskier’s resting on the counter. Her fingers only touched his skin for a second before he separated himself from the beautiful woman.

“I- uh- I feel really flattered by your passionate words, young lady but I’m not interested.”

The woman looked at him for a second before advancing again, “Getting shy? I can show you a really good time. We can get a room in the inn across the street.” Geralt’s gaze hardened, pupils zeroing in on the woman. Before he knew it he was standing up, ready to go over there and push the woman away from what was clearly _his_. “You look like you need some good time.” She moved her hands up Jaskier’s chest, and over his shoulders.

Geralt was all but ready to storm over there and do more than just push the woman away but Jaskier’s next words stopped him.

Once again, he untangled himself from the drunk woman, giving her an awkward half smile. He patted down the clothes where the woman touched him as if he could erase the unwanted touches from his body. “You misunderstand. I’m not interested because my heart already belongs to someone else. They’re dear to me, I-I could never be unfaithful to them.” he coughed into his hand, a blush on his cheeks. He quickly picked up his forgotten ale before excusing himself from the stunned woman.

Geralt quickly sat down when he saw the bard moving towards him. All the anger left Geralt’s body at once, only living behind a dark, empty feeling. Jaskier had a lover, someone he clearly loved with all his soul. Why did the discovery hurt so much? He touched his chest, feeling like someone had pierced a dagger into his lungs, squeezing the air out of him.

When Jaskier slumped into the seat across from him, Geralt managed to more or less gather himself. He glanced up at the still blushing man, watching the jug touch the bard’s soft lips. The younger man must have noticed his staring because he stopped gulping down the ale, giving Geralt one of his shit-eating grins.

“What’s wrong, witcher? Dragon got your tongue?” 

“Hm…” and before he thought better of it, he said, “You have a lover.” he choked out with all the grace of a cat being pulled into the sea by Drowners.

The man choked, almost spilling the drink all over Geralt’s expensive coat. Geralt had the tendency to glare at the sputtering bard, even though it kind of was his fault for dropping it on the unsuspecting bard like that. The witcher leaned back in his seat, waiting for the man to stop coughing.

“You- _huff-_ you heard? Of course you did… damned Witcher senses! I- _urgh-_ yes?” it came out more like a question than a firm answer. Geralt lifted an eyebrow, “I-I mean, yes! I have a… partner.” 

_Partner._

_Partner._

Not some random lover the bard visited every now and then. No. A _partner_.

Geralt had the strange urge to go outside and search for some wolves to slay. He crossed his arms to hide his shaking hands, averting his amber eyes to the dirty floor. Someone should really clean this place.

“Hm.” it came out like a low growl and not as a simple affirmation as intended. He felt Jaskier stiffen across from him, could feel his eyes move up and down his body, searching for the reason of the witcher’s sudden bad mood.

Why was he so worked up? He didn’t feel in control of his unexplained jealousy. It only made him more grumpy. Witcher’s were the epitome of emotionless, he shouldn’t lose his control like this. It must have something to do with his memory loss, it twisted his mind in a way that he couldn’t even control his own mind anymore. 

He felt out of touch with himself. Losing most of his memories was one thing, he could maybe live with it (it wasn’t like he needed them to be a good witcher) but having unreasonable, strong feelings about Jaskier's love-life was another problem all together.

Fuck. He barely knew the man.

He needed space from the hyperactive bard. Some time alone so he could collect his thoughts.

He needed to mediate.

Making up his mind, he stood up without a word. The sudden movement startled the worried bard, looking at him like a bunny in the line of his arrow.

 _Adorable_ , the traitorous part of his mind spoke up.

“Geralt, let me explain-”

“Explain what? There is no need for you to explain anything.” Geralt said, “Try to stay out of trouble.” with that the witcher turned around and walked out of the tavern, ignoring the curious stares of the villagers. He had about enough with humans for one day.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. English isn't my first language 
> 
> 2\. I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter!
> 
> 3\. this fic will be full of tropes, get ready


	2. In the MIDDLE of nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting a little hot in here...

Finding a good spot outside the village to meditate wasn’t hard. Geralt’s feet carried him into the forest stopping in a small clearing. From here he could still see the lights of the buildings but the sounds of people were muffled and far away. With a heavy sigh, the witcher slumped down cross legged on the dirty forest ground. Old leaves and twigs cracked under his bulky form, alerting a deer about his presence which quickly fled away from the dangerous hunter. Closing his eyes, he made an effort to control his breath. Slowly he fell into a peaceful trance, focusing his attention on his breath and on how his body moved with each inhalation and exhalation.

The stress of the day slowly vanished. Geralt took another calming breath, falling into a place deep in his mind.

He didn’t know how much time went by before he heard clumsy footsteps walking in his direction. The person was alone, breathing heavily as if they had run all the way here. He couldn’t smell who it was, the only scent he could detect was his own. The lack of scent made alarm bells go off in his head. Standing up to his full hight, he pulled out his steel sword without making a single sound. Not a moment later a male stumbled into the clearing the hood of his coat concealing his face. Geralt stepped forward, pointing his sword at the man’s neck.

The man let out a high scream, stepping away from the sword shining sharply in the moonlight. Then, suddenly, the stranger’s body language completely changed. He let his hands fall to his sides, huffing at the angry witcher.

“Really, Geralt? Pointing swords at me now?”

Geralt quickly dropped the sword when he recognized the voice, “Jaskier?”

“Of course you dolt!” Jaskier pulled down the hood of his coat, revealing his flushed face and cornflower blue eyes. No wonder he couldn’t smell Jaskier. The bard was still wearing the witcher’s coat successfully hiding his own lovely scent under Geralt’s own, “So much for witcher senses…” the bard mocked playfully, both hands on his hips while he leans into Geralt’s personal bubble.

Geralt rolled his eyes, stepping away to put back his steel sword, “What are you doing here, Jaskier?” he grumbled.

He watched Jaskier’s face fall, scoffing at Geralt’s grumpy tone, “I was worried about you…”

“You do realize that I could kill you with snap of my finger, right?” he said giving the bard his best death glare, “I can take care of myself. Can’t say the same about you.”

“Wha- wha- What do you mean by  _ that _ ?”

The witcher let out an angry grunt, “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Why? Because I annoy you?”

“No.” Geralt growl advancing towards the man who took several steps back until his back hit a nearby tree. The bard let out a gasp, looking up at him with wide eyes. Even now, pressed against a tree by the witcher, Jaskier didn’t smell of fear, “Because you could have been attacked.”

Jaskier didn’t answer, staying silent for once. Letting out another growl, Geralt straightened his back hovering over the man like a brick wall. His nostrils flared taking in Jaskier’s sweet scent hidden under his own. He smelled like smoke and old leaves, the smell of days old sweat still clinging to his skin, but under all that he smelled something that was all Jaskier.

Jasmine and chamomile. An odd combination but it suited the lithe bard.

“Are you  _ sniffing  _ me?” he heard Jaskier’s embarrassed and accusing tone. Geralt didn’t even register that he has closed his eyes at one point, quickly opening them to stare at Jaskier’s round face.

“You stink.”

Jaskier gaped at him like a fish, arms moving up and down as if he considered hitting Geralt,

“You- You aren’t any better! For a fact, you smell far worse!”

Geralt grunted and forced himself away from the warm body, slowly making his way back to the village. He must have meditated for hours. The sky was pitch black, dark angry clouds hiding the stars beyond. Behind him he could hear Jaskier following him like lost puppy, trying to find his way in the darkness without falling over anything.

“Just for your information, I already bought us a room for the night and two baths!” the bard grumbled behind him still sour about the witcher’s words.

“Hm.”

“‘ _ Oh, Thank you, Jaskier _ !’ ‘ _ You have such a clever mind, Jaskier _ ’!”

“Hm, if you’re trying to dig for compliments, drop it. I didn’t ask you to buy us a room for the night. I would have been fine sleeping outside.” Geralt replied trying to repress the boiling anger in his gut. Not five minutes in the man’s company and Geralt was ready to kick him in the balls. How can such a simple human have so much influence on his emotions. Jaskier broke all of his careful built walls, rubbing in the truth, that Geralt in fact, wasn’t an unfeeling mutant like so many though.

“I would have died if I slept another day outside. My poor back can’t take another night sleeping on cold leaves and piercing twigs. And we both need a bath. Not some short splash in a cold, freezing stream, a real bath, Geralt! With soap and bath oil and-”

“Shut up, bard.”

Jaskier huffed but kept his mouth shut for the rest of the walk.

Jaskier all but stumbled into the inn, the man behind the counter giving them a strange look. He took one look at the bard’s flushed face and the witcher’s intense stare before quickly excusing himself. 

“What was his problem- hey!” Geralt pulled Jaskier behind him, fingers digging into the bard’s shoulder, “I can walk by myself! Geralt-”

Geralt let go when they walked around the corner a hallway with several doors coming into view, “Which room.”

Grumbling something under the breath, which Geralt was too tired to make out, Jaskier stormed down the hallway and stopped at a door at the end of the hallway to their right. He pulled the door open, letting it bang against the wall and most likely waking up several other guests in the process. The witcher walked in behind him, closing the door and moving the lock in place. When he turned around he was greeted by the sight of Jaskier’s bare back.

The bard didn’t seem bothered stripping in front of Geralt, pulling down his pants and underwear next revealing his naked butt. The candles soft flames tinted Jaskier’s soft, freckled skin in warm orange colors, making him look almost otherworldly. He turned around showing even more naked skin to the stunned witcher before carefully stepping over to him.

Geralt’s right hand slowly reached out, fingers tingling with the need to touch the constellation of freckles on Jaskier’s hips. His mutated eyes carefully took in the bard’s naked body saving the beautiful sight into his mind. He only hoped that he wouldn’t forget it again.

Jaskier stopped a few feet away from the witcher’s outstretched hand. His blue eyes studying the scarred hand like it was a big mystery he needed to unravel. Sky blue eyes glanced up giving lips turned up into to a teasing smirk, then all of the sudden, Jaskier sat down.    
Geralt dropped his hand a confused grunt escaping his lungs, he followed the bard’s path only to realize that Jaskier has sank down into big, round bowl full of hot, steaming water. He was still looking at Geralt, his lithe body moving under the water presenting himself like a peacock.

How could he have not seen the damn bath? Jaskier’s naked skin captured all his attention that he didn’t even notice the bath which took in half of the fucking room. He averted his eyes, scoffing at his own reaction to the bard’s beautiful body.

“Fuck.” he cursed under his breath, ignoring the sound of splashing water and the low moan that left the bard’s soft, pink lips.

Now that he wasn’t staring holes into Jaskier’s body, he noticed the prominent smell sticking to to every surface of the room.  _ Jasmine and chamomile _ . Jaskier’s scent. The scent of the bath products he always used. The scent that was now all over Geralt’s coat which lay forgotten on the small bed behind the bath. Geralt walked towards it, lifting the fabric and swallowing the urge to press it against his nose so he could smell his and Jaskier’s scent mingled together.

“Don’t you want to come in? I know how much you hate cold baths.” Jaskier peeped up behind him.

“Hmmm. Didn’t you say you ordered two baths?”

“I must have done a mistake. Now, come one. Don’t be shy, witcher, the bath is big enough for three people. Or one normal human and one very bulky witcher.”

“I do not feel shy.” Geralt growled back and as if to prove his point, he quickly shed his clothes. Jaskier didn’t even try to pretend that his eyes weren’t following the path of the witcher’s hands, dark pupils shamelessly staring him, taking in his scarred skin like it was damn painting. When Geralt finally shredded himself of every article, the bard had the tendency to give him a filthy smile before looking away.

Geralt grumbled and made his way over to the bathtub, slumping down into the hot water and not giving a fuck about the liquid that splashed over onto the side. He leaned back, both his muscular arms resting on the bathtub giving Jaskier a perfect view of his chest. Jaskier, who was curled into himself across from him, glanced briefly at the muscular arms before giving Geralt a displeased look. He knew exactly what the witcher was doing.

Well, two could play the game.

Closing his eyes, Jaskier stretched his arm over his body letting out a long, deep moan which went right down to Geralt’s already half-hard dick. And to top it all off, he moved one hand through his wet, brown hair, revealing his cornflower-blue eyes as if he knew how enthralled Geralt was with them.

Grinning like a cat, so satisfied with his performance, he glanced over at the brooding man. His grin turning downright filthy when he saw the man’s dangerous expression. His blue eyes glanced down at Geralt’s clenched hands, watching the muscles move under the scarred skin.

The bard clearly had fun playing with Geralt’s libido.

All of the sudden the bath didn’t seem big enough anymore. He could feel Jaskier’s toes touching his legs, rubbing against the sensitive skin discreetly. Sometimes he would moves his arms under the water, fingers brushing over Geralt’s tight in the motion that was clearly planned.

Playing. With fire.

Geralt let out an inhuman growl watching with interest how Jaskier’s pupils dilated as if he just heard the most filthy thing leave in his lips.  _ Interesting _ . The sharp smirk stretched across Geralt’s lips, showing his sharp canines. Jaskier’s playful demeanor dropped like a wet cloth replaced by a bashful look. He watched Jaskier swallow nervously, eyes darting away from the witcher’s face.

Really  _ interesting _ .

“Enjoying yourself?” Geralt asked but it came out more like a growl.

The bard shuddered “Huh- I- yeah?” he squeaked.

“Maybe I should help you relax. Come here.”

“ _ Pardon _ ?”

“ _ Come here _ .”

The bard slowly crawled over, water splashing over the rim but neither of them cared about the mess they were making. Jaskier stopped moving when he couldn’t get any nearer without climbing on the witcher’s lap. He glanced up at the witcher, lips tugged into a small smile, “Hey.” he whispered between them, his breath ghosting over Geralt’s lips.

“Mhm. Turn around.”

Arching an eyebrow but trusting his witcher with his life, he quickly turned around, presenting his freckled back to the witcher. Geralt looked at the naked skin for second before slowly lifting up a hand, fingers gliding over a long scar on the man’s hip. Jaskier shuddered at the unexpected touch a soft gasp escaping his lips.

“How did this happen?” Geralt asked, his other hand settled on the bard’s arm, slowly stroking up and down.

“A-  _ nngh-  _ A dagger. Happened on the way to Drakenborg.  _ Ah-  _ Ban-bandits attacked us.” he let out a delicate laugh, “You couldn’t shut up about it for weeks. Hovering over me like an overprotective mother-hen.” he sent a smirk over his shoulder to the stunned witcher.

Not for the first time Geralt cursed himself for being a fucking idiot and forgetting his memories. A dark sheen wrapped around Geralt’s mind, making him realize how much precious memories he forgot. He couldn’t recall a single adventure with the bard, not a single memory they shared together. They were all locked away deep in his mind, unable to call open them.

Leaning his forehead against Jaskier’s neck, he breathed in deeply, trying to let go of his dark thoughts.

He let his hands wander over the bard’s skin absentmindedly, caressing the skin and savoring the small gasps coming from his traveling partner. His fingers stopped on another scar, near Jaskier’s shoulder. It was round, the skin still sensitive and slightly red around it.

“What about this one?”

Jaskier let out a short laugh. Geralt arched an eyebrow at the strange reaction, he couldn’t understand how a scar could possible be a happy topic.

“Arrow. We were walking through Vizima when a group of noble man recognized my face. One of them accusing me of sleeping with his daughter, which I might or might not have done.” Jaskier winced, “Anyway, the man promptly shot an arrow into my shoulder, crippling me for weeks. A rather tragic story if not for the sight of you beating the noble man into the dirt like a drowner!”

Geralt let out an amused grunt.

“We had to flee the city afterwards, knights and angry townspeople hard on our tails for beating up one of their people. Oh, and you let me ride Roach with you for over two weeks! It’s one of my favorite tales to rub into your stupid face whenever you tell stranger that we’re not friends.”

“Hm. Telling strangers about the precious people in your life only results in giving away a weakness that can be used against you.” Geralt responded, rough hands stroking over Jaskier’s shoulder blades.

“ _ Urgh- _ That’s the same thing the other Geralt would say.”

“ _ Other Geralt _ ? I’m still myself, only with less memories.”

“Shut up and wash my hair, witcher.” Jaskier grumbled back and leaned back until his shoulders touched Geralt’s chest and head rested against his shoulders.

Geralt let out a deep grunt but picked up the soap to wash the man’s soft locks. He carefully messaged his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, moving them up and down in slow circles. Jaskier melted against his body, lips trembling from swallowing down delighted moans. The witcher finger’s moved down to take care of the hair near the bard’s neck. He abruptly stopped when he saw the old scar on his neck. It looked like teeth marks, old and brutal like someone as bit into the same spot over and over again, opening it again before it could fully heal. Newer teeth marks hiding the old ones underneath. Some of them had barely time to heal, red and purple bruised decorating the delicate skin like a brutal painting. Whoever the bard’s bedded on a regular bases clearly felt possessive about his lover.

“You carry some... rather impressive love marks on your neck.”

Jaskier stiffed against him before clapping a hand on his neck, hiding the mark from view, “I- that- you see-”

“Safe your breath, bard. I don’t want to hear about your sex life. Reserve your dirty stories for someone who actually cares to listen to them.” Geralt said, each word coming out forced and half mad. He felt Jaskier’s body separate from his, the bard moving back to his previous position across from the witcher, as far away as possible. He couldn’t even feel the man’s toes touching his legs anymore. 

It was as if an invisible wall appeared between them.

“Sorry…” Jaskier whispered.

“Hm.”

They continued the rest of the bath in suffocating silence.

* * *

“Explain to me again why you didn’t get a room with two beds?” Geralt asked, dressed in nothing else but some soft sleeping pants. He looked down at the bard already laying in the bed and showing just as much skin as the witcher.

“Because they didn’t have any free rooms?”

Geralt arched an eyebrow.

The bard huffed, “And because I tend to get cold at night. Your body heat will keep me warm and comfortable.” he explained as if that was a good enough reason to purposefully get a room with only one bed, “You could always sleep on the floor if you’re so against sharing a bed for a single night.”

Geralt took one look at the still wet floor and thought better of it. With a grumble he rolled under the covers next to Jaskier. The younger man sighed contently and turned his back to the witcher. Letting out another annoying grunt, Geralt blew out the candles with a swing of his hand, shoving them into darkness.

Closing his mutated eyes, he tried to fall asleep.

And quickly realized that the task was impossible.

The whole room smelled like the bard. Fuck,  _ his own skin  _ smelled like Jaskier! He could hear the bard’s soft heartbeat, the warmth his lithe body radiates like a comforting campfire. and the places where their bodies touched.

Geralt settled his hands over his chest so they wouldn’t wander off into places they didn’t belong… like Jaskier’s freckled shoulders or his rosy hips or- the witcher let out a grunt, trying to crush away his desire for the man.

Jaskier had a lover- no, a  _ partner _ . No matter how good the bard looked (naked and dressed the traitorous part of his mind added), he wasn’t interested in jumping into the bed for a quick fuck with the witcher. He told the woman at the tavern he would never be unfaithful to his lover.

Geralt was out of luck getting his dick wet with the man laying next to him.

But those thoughts didn’t stop his cock from getting hard anyways.

Ignoring his half-hard dick he turned his back to the bard so he wouldn’t have to see his body anymore. He listened to Jaskier moving around for a long time before the man let out a long sigh.

“You really are a total dolt, witcher.” Jaskier whispered between them, and then out of nowhere, hands hugged Geralt’s massive form from behind. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. His heart skipped a beat, a surprised grunt leaving his lips. His body stiffens against Jaskier’s soft, warm skin. Muscles flinching away from Jaskier’s fingers dancing over his stomach like he was playing his precious lute.

“What-”

“Witcher, relax. You’re stiffer than a half dead drowner. I’m not going to behead you in your sleep…” Jaskier said his breath ghosting over his oversensitive neck. 

Geralt didn’t know how to respond so he stayed silent, forcing his muscles to relax. After several seconds of unbearable silence, Jaskier nuzzled closer to him when he was sure that Geralt wouldn’t wring his neck. His nose graced along Geralt’s neck along with the man’s soft breath. His hands tightened around Geralt’s stomach, clinging to him as if he was afraid the witcher would disappear into the shadows. His long, thin fingers stroking over years old scars, touching them with a familiarity Geralt wasn’t used too. One of Jaskier’s legs rested over his own, cold toes pressed between Geralt’s strong legs.

The bard really had no regard for his self-preservation, cuddling with a witcher as if he wasn’t the most dangerous thing in the whole village. He smelled so peaceful, no stench of fear or suspicion coming off of him.

Why did he let the bard cuddle against him? And being the little spoon of all things…

Yet, he felt strangely secure in the man’s hold, for once forgetting the cruel, hard world around them. Forgetting about his next contract or if he will live long enough to start his next hunt. Forgetting about his lost memories…

His mind only staying in the present.

Just for one night.

Let him have this for just one night.

Tomorrow he will step out of the door again as the white wolf once more. But for now he was just Geralt of Rivia.

A soft growl vibrates deep in his chest, Jaskier clinging closer to him, letting out his own content hum.

* * *

Geralt had been awake since some time but for some fucking reason he didn’t want to remove himself from the sleeping bard sprawled on top of him. It wasn’t even a comfortable position. One of his legs were hanging off the bed, the cold floor seeking into his toes. One of his arms was beginning to fall asleep from the way, Jaskier’s hip bones kept pressing into it. And he couldn’t get in a deep breath with the way Jaskier’s entire body laid half on top Geralt’s chest like he was his personal furnace.

He was also hot.

Really, really hot.

Sweat was dripping down his back, soaking into the bed sheets underneath him and making them stick to his body disgustingly.

And yet Geralt didn’t throw Jaskier over the edge of the bed, like he should.

No, instead he raised his free hand, the one not suffocating by Jaskier’s hip bones, and carefully put it on Jaskier’s naked back, caressing the soft skin and healed scars. Eyes moving to the dirty ceiling above them he let his mind drift, not noticing the way his fingers slowly moved lower and lower on the bard’s back.

When his fingers reached the man’s hips, nails digging into the skin as if to mark him, a strange dizzy feeling overcame him.

And before he knew it he was plunged into a somewhat familiar depths.

“ _ What the fuck is in your hair?” Geralt spoke up, eyeing the yellow flower crown on top the bard’s silky hair. _

_ Winter-blue eyes rolled at Geralt’s confused tone, “Floral wreath. Made it out of dandelions I found in the clearing over there.” he said, pointing between a sea of trees to their right. _

_ Geralt often saw the bard pick up stray flowers among the road. Red, blue, purple, yellow ones. Most of them ending up in the bard’s hair like a sprinkle of stars, and sometimes, when the younger man felt brave, he would place some into Geralt’s long hair while he slept or rode on the horse behind him. _

_ Geralt would end up picking out the flowers the next time he took a bath. It were mostly blue flowers, sometimes purple. Cradling them in his monstrous fingers carefully as if they were the most precious gift he ever he received. _

“ _ Hm. It’s the first time you made one of those. Didn’t know you could make something so complicated with those fingers of yours.” Geralt sent him a teasing smile, amber eyes glinting in the sunlight like dying flames. _

_ The bard gaped at him one angry finger raised like a weapon, “How- My fingers are my tools! I play the lute with them masterfully, you know?!” _

“ _ And playing your lute is about all you can do with them.” _

_ He saw the moment, Jaskier wanted to argue and quickly spoke over him before he could let out a single sound. _

“ _ Or do I have to remind you of the time I brought you a dagger to give you something to protect yourself with and it ended up in your own tight? Or the time you tried climbing a tree to get apples and you promptly fell on your ass when your fingers slipped?” _

_ Jaskier fell silent next to him, a pout on his lips and eyes staring daggers into him. _

“ _ Yeah thought so.” Geralt finished, at this point his small smile had turned into a full blown smirk, showing his sharp teeth. _

_ Jaskier grumbled, staring at the satisfied smirk on the white wolf’s lips, “This is the most you said to me all week and it was on behalf of making fun of me! Maybe I should search for a new traveling partner because my current one doesn’t seem to appreciate my talents!” Jaskier grumbled but a similar grin stretched over his own lips before he could stop it. _

“ _ I do appreciate all your talents, Jask. Even the annoying ones, like your voice-” _

“ _ Hey! I take offense to that!”  _

“ _ Hm! Good. Now come here.” Geralt said. Jaskier eyed him suspiciously before grinning brightly and moving towards Geralt’s open arms. The flower crown shook back and forth on his head but stayed on top dutifully.  _

_ When the bard was near enough he let his fingers settled on his hips, nails digging into the skin but not enough to hurt the man. He watched the bright smile on Jaskier’s face, burning the image into his mind before leaning down and- _

Geralt was forced out of his trance by the sound of a sleepy voice saying his name. His hands stopped their endless journey on Jaskier’s back resting awkwardly near his neck. He felt Jaskier move against him, face nuzzling into his neck, still half asleep.

“Mornin’...” Jaskier mumbled.

Geralt grunted back. He didn’t know what to do in this situation. Where to place his hands or what to say. It wasn’t often that he woke up with someone by his side that wasn’t a whore, and he sure as hell never cuddled with any of them. Such soft, comfortable things, like bathing together or cuddling didn’t belong in a witcher’s life. The last time he touched someone in a purely platonic way was a long time ago, or maybe he just forget like most of his damn memories…

On top of him, Jaskier let out another sleepy moan, lips gracing over Geralt’s neck. A small kiss, almost unnoticeable, was pressed against his neck before the bard slowly sat up, sitting down on the witcher’s stomach like it was a normal, like Geralt wasn’t going half mad underneath him by the sight of his naked, flushed skin that he knew he shouldn’t touch.

Jaskier let out an obscene moan before stretching his body, presenting his naked torso to the witcher’s sharp eyesight. Geralt latched his trembling hands into the bed sheets, almost tearing the fabric in the process. He felt his dick give a tentative twitch in his pants but he ignored his lustful thoughts and tried to think about anything else but how much he wanted to touch Jaskier’s rosy nipples.

The bard slumped back, cornflower eyes looking up and down Geralt’s naked body before finally fixing on his face, “Sleeping in a bed once in a while instead of outside really makes you feel well rested.” Jaskier said with a small smile.

“Hm” Geralt said because his tongue wasn’t able to produce any proper words at the moment, not while Jaskier was moving his hips around, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him.

“We should really work on widening your vocabulary. You’re even less talkative than before you lost your memories. Well, I can’t blame you, dear witcher, I would be silently suffering too.”

“I’m not silently suffering.”

Jaskier looked down at him in a way which showed how little he believed the witcher’s words, “Hm, yeah, sure. Whatever you say, my friend.” with that the bard stood up from Geralt’s naked torso and walked over to his bag next to the door. 

Geralt shuddered at the cold air invading the part of his body where the bard had sat a few seconds ago. Grumbling he sat up too, catching the shirt thrown at him at the last second. He glared up at Jaskier, willing himself to hate the teasing smile on his face. 

“I hoped I could catch you off guard.” Jaskier said while pulling a carmine red jacket over his white shirt. Geralt eyed the bright fabric as if it had offended him personally. Not for the first time he wondered why the bard was so fond of his bright colored clothes, with frilly ends that could barely protect him from the cold and only made him an obvious target for any bandits or monsters wherever he went.

Soon, similar colored pants were pulled over the bard’s bottom.

_ At least his ass looked good in the pants… _

Geralt grunted at his thoughts.

Jaskier turned towards him, opening his arms as if to present himself. Geralt furrowed his eyebrows at the gesture. Was the man looking for his… approval?

“So bad?” Jaskier said, one eyebrow arched.

“Bright, noticeable.”

Jaskier huffed at his words and turned his back towards him once more to pack his bag. Standing up from the bed, Geralt followed the man’s example and got ready to continue their journey.

* * *

Leaving behind the village they continued on down a mountain pass branching off from the main road, Jaskier telling him that it was a shortcut which they used to come up here in the first place. Geralt eyed the small road with skeptic eyes but relented to the bard’s wishes.

So that it how they ended up walking down the small path, the mountain’s cliff hanging over them, blocking the sun while Jaskier walked next to Roach plucking the strings of his lute absentmindedly.

Geralt ignored the bard’s voice, ears focusing on any treat walking around. His keen ears picked up some wolf howls in the distance, with a little luck they won't walk into them. To bad that the bard was a walking magnet for bad luck.

“‘ _ Spring will return, on the road the rain will...descent _ ’? No… hmmm- maybe ‘ _ fall’ _ ...” Jaskier muttered next to him in the process of writing his next ballad, “What do you think, Geralt? What sounds better: ‘rain will descent’ or ‘rain will fall’?”

Before Geralt could answer Jaskier already babbled on, his loud voice echoing around them grading on the witcher’s nerves.

“You’re right, ‘fall’ is obviously more suited for this kind of song!” 

“Hm.”

With that the man turned back to his lute, ready to start the song all over again but a loud shout from their right stopped him.

“Master witcher!”

Geralt and Jaskier looked to their left down a small hill where a man was sitting in front of a small campfire, clothes soaked and tear tracks on his face. The man was waving his hands at them, splashing around moody water.

Jumping off Roach, Geralt gave Jaskier a pointed look silently screaming at him not to fuck anything up before they slowly made their way down the small hill towards the sobbing man. Stopping a few feet away, Geralt quickly pushed Jaskier behind him when the man tried to move closer. He heard the young man huff behind him but stayed behind Geralt.

“Yes?” Geralt grunted, waiting for the man to tell him what happened.

“Please, master witcher, I’m in need of your service!”

“I can tell.” he replied, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. An elbow swiftly hit him in the rip, Jaskier silently berating him for being too cold. Rolling his amber eyes, he tried again, “What happened, tell me.”

“I-I- Monsters, slimy, naked things. Came out of the mud and attacked my horse! Eating the poor horse’s face in one bite, I tell you! I had to leave behind my precious cargo or I would be a goner too!”

“Sounds like drowners.” Jaskier whispered into his ear.

Geralt frowned, wondering how often he must have hauled Jaskier along for the bard knew which monster they were dealing with, “Hm.”

“I’ll pay you! I don’t have much but-- please! If I don’t get my things I have no way to feed my family this winter!” the man continued.

“Alright. Give me half of your coins and I’ll deal with your problem.”

Drowners were nasty little things. Following their prey from underwater until they find the perfect opportunity to strike. He would need to be careful, and on high alert at all times but he should be able to find the nest easily with his good sense of smell and sound.

“Half my- fine, witcher! Just get me my precious cargo and I’ll give you all the coins you want.”

Nodding, Geralt stormed off into the forest, looking for any glues for where to find the man’s missing cargo and the drowners. When he heard echoing footsteps behind him he abruptly stopped causing Jaskier to walk right into his back.

“Ow! My lovely nose!” Jaskier whined, skillfully ignoring the witcher’s death glare.

Geralt promptly pushed the bard against a tree, hovering over him, “You are not coming.”

“What!? Why?”

“Hm. Too dangerous.” Geralt bit back.

Jaskier let out a short, loud laugh, “Really, Geralt? Come on, how else am I supposed to write my songs if I can’t watch my muse fight? And you’re not good at retelling events. I will stay far behind, watching you perform a good distance away, okay? You don’t have to worry about me.” Jaskier gave him a quick grin before slipping away under Geralt’s arms.

Geralt wanted to tell him that he wasn’t worried, that he just wanted the bard gone because he would distract him but the lies wouldn’t leave his mouth. With a grunt he walked after the man before he could get himself in trouble and walk right into the drowner’s nest.

“Fine, but don’t come crying to me when you’re being chased by drowners.”

Jaskier let out a snort.

* * *

Geralt told him to stay behind. He fucking told him to stay behind and look after Roach but no. The bard had to go against everything the witcher told him like a spoiled brat. If he would have stayed behind then he wouldn’t have to listen to the man’s endless whines and complains right now.

“My shoes!” the man screamed,  _ again _ , when he accidently walked into puddle of mudd.

_ Again _ .

“You, dear witcher, owe me a new pair of shoes!”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

He heard Jaskier gasp behind him, turning around he saw the man holding one hand to his heart while looking at Geralt with a heart broken expression. Geralt rolled his eyes at the bard’s over dramatic reaction.

  
  


“You break my heart, witcher.” Jaskier said after a while, eyes focused on the ground beneath his feet so he wouldn’t walk into any more mud puddles.

“Good.” was Geralt’s short, cold reply.

Jaskier let his hands fall, annoyed with his friend’s grumpy mood, “Geralt you really need to she-”

Geralt stopped, lifting up a hand to stop the bard’s chatter. Jaskier knew that gesture all too well. He quickly stepped closer to Geralt, hiding behind his muscular body for protection. The smaller man looked around anxiously, waiting for something to jump at them out of nowhere.

“I can hear them. Stay here.” Geralt ordered and pulled out his silver sword before walking to their right towards a rather large puddle of mudd. Watching the witcher go into battle always made Jaskier’s heart leap. Geralt looked so otherworldly in those moments, well, that is until he came back smelling like guts and blood. Then he resembled more a mad man, his mutated pupils still dilated from the adrenaline of the fight and sometimes eyes still pitch black from whatever potion he drank to enhance his senses, black veins pulsating underneath his eyes.

Yes, in that moment, Geralt resembled more an angel of death than anything else. Jaskier wrote several songs about it, each one Geralt hated with a passion, finding his own appearance after he drank a potion freakish and disgusting.

Well, Jaskier always found the sigh… kinda hot. Not that he would ever tell the witcher the truth (most likely Geralt already knew it, by the way he would sniff the air and stare into Jaskier’s soul with his pitch black eyes).

Nothing wrong with having some dirty thoughts here and there. In the end he would never force his witcher into doing anything he didn’t want. And if he didn’t want to bang Jaskier while he was half-feral from his witcher potion then that was fine too. Jaskier did know how to take a hint even if some people though otherwise.

Standing alone in the middle of the forest, not knowing what to do with himself, he decided to carefully walk closer to the fight occurring in front of him. He could see Geralt’s silver sword glinted sharply in the sunlight, the groans and screams of monsters echoing through the otherwise silent forest.

Peeking around a tree he watched the witcher slay the drowners, his muscular body rolling to the side when one of the vile beasts jumped at him ending up with mud on his mouth instead of the witcher’s flesh. Geralt cut of the monster’s head with a swift swing of his sword, his white hair flowing in the air gracefully.

Jaskier’s nails dug into the tree, so completely enthralled with the way the man fought that he completely missed the way one of the drowners noticed him and wasnow stalking over to him.

“Jaskier!”

The witcher’s angry voice tore jaskier’s eyes away from the way Geralt beautiful, thick, long fingers curled around the grip of the sword. He turned his head, eyes widening when he saw the rather big drowner jump at him. He staggered back just in time, staring at the sharp claws embedded in the tree right at the spot where he stood moments ago.

“I told you to stay back!” he heard Geralt yells from somewhere behind him but his mind was too occupied by the fact that the drowner was advancing towards him once more, it’s disgusting mouth opening wide to show his razor sharp teeth. Jaskier’s nose wrinkled, eyes not leaving the beast while he slowly stepped back.

He needed to find a way out of this. Some miracle. Just a tiny little-

Jaskier let out a scream when he fell over a root his back colliding with the hard ground.

“Jaskier!” Geralt yelled again, a low growl following and the sound of his sword slicing through a body.

“Geralt… Geralt!  _ Help _ !” Jaskier screamed back, quickly scrambling back on all forth but he couldn’t escape the drowners sharp claws in time. They tore into his pants and right through his skin like it was butter. A high whine escaped his lips, his uninjured leg kicking out trying to dislodge the creature off his body. But no chance, the beast’s claws where firmly embedded in his leg. Another painful whine escaped his lips when he saw the drowner move closer, teeth shining, ready to bite off Jaskier’s head-

Suddenly a sword sliced through the creature’s neck, cutting it’s head clean off which dropped to the ground next to Jaskier’s right arm. A foot kicked away the rest of the beast’s body, dislodging the sharp claws from Jaskier’s leg. This time Jaskier downright screamed at the pain traveling up his numb leg.

“Urgh, I believe I’m dying…” Jaskier muttered delusional from the pain.

Strong hands grabbed his shoulders before he could fall face first into the mud. Geralt let out an angry huff before saying: “You’re not.”

Jaskier glanced up searching for the witcher’s beautiful eyes, “Are you sure?”

“Hm.”

“You’re the worst at comforting people, maybe saying more than one words would help calm my mind- Fuck!” Suddenly he was being pulled up, wobbling next to Geralt on one leg while glaring at the witcher as best as he could. He tried to repress the painful tears that wanted to flow down, “Warn me the next time before you decide to move my body around like a puppet!”

Geralt looked him up and down, amber eyes piercing into him like daggers, analyzing his body for any other injuries, “Can you walk.”

Averting his eyes, he tried to take a step forward but would have fallen on his pretty bottom if it wasn’t for a strong hand around his waist, “I believe that means no…”

Geralt let out a low growl.

The next moment he felt his feet leave the ground, his lithe body hoisted up into strong arms. A small yell gurgled out of his throat, his hands sneaking around Geralt’s neck, fingers digging into the white wolf’s hair. Oh, how he missed Geralt’s strong arms around him, holding him. Taking care of him...

Geralt dragged them back to Roach. Once there, he sat Jaskier on top of the mare. The bard swaying for a second feeling dizzy and disoriented from the sudden high and pain. He glanced down at Geralt but the man as already wandered back into the forest again. Leaving Jaskier alone and bleeding out.

At least Roach was here to give him company. Already knowing what to do in this situation (not his first near death encounter with a beast and most likely not his last either) he began searching through the bags fasten around Roach’s saddle until he found the bandages and water he was searching for. Lifting up his leg as best as he could while sitting on top of a horse, he began tearing apart his ruined pants, revealing the nasty wound.   
Opening the water bottle he poured the content over the wound, hissing at pain. While bandaging his wound, he prayed for Geralt to return soon.

  
  


Geralt found the man’s cargo as quickly as possible, almost running back to the campfire where the man was waiting for him. He threw the things in front of the man’s feet while glaring dagger into his skull. The man all but threw his coins at Geralt’s face to get the angry the witcher away from him.

Running up the small hill, Geralt returned to Roach who still had the bard attached to her saddle. When he walked closer he noticed that the man has passed out from the pain, head slumped against the Roach’s mane. He gave her a pat on the snout for tolerating all the bullshit Geralt dragged her through on a daily basis, “Good girl.”

She pumped her head into his chest in return.

Taking her reins he jumped up behind the unconscious bard. He settled an arm around his waist, pressing the man against his chest so he wouldn’t fall off. Listening to man’s heartbeat for a moment (still going strong) he ordered Roach to start galloping down the path, his sensitive eyes searching for a good place to build up the camp.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know yet if the next chapter will be the last or if I'll have to add another one.
> 
> Well, I hope you guys enjoyed it! Sorry again if my english was incorrect in some places.


	3. Moring Sun And Cold Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a looooong time my friends... I'm sorry, when I started this stories I was unemployed. But things changed and now I have a job and I somewhat need to get back my motivation to write again.
> 
> In the begining I wanted to end this stories after three chapters but that clearly isn't gonna happen. This thing got kinda huge so, huh. I'll try to update the next chapter sooner! Sorry again and have fun reading!

When Jaskier came back to it he was laying on his back, staring at a dark sky sprinkled with hundreds of stars. He felt twigs poking him in his rips and leaves tickling his ears annoying the bard to no end... he really did not miss camping outside.

His ears picked up the peaceful sound of rustling leaves, insects crawling over the ground and the wind traveling through the trees like a lost spirit.

Then, realization crashed in.

He was laying in the middle of the forest,  _ alone. At night. _

How?

What?

The last thing he remembers was watching Geralt fight a pack of drowners and then-  _ Oh, fuck! His foot! _

Jaskier jerked up but slumped down again by an intense pain traveling up his leg, “Urgh! Devil tits!” 

Someone let out a loud growl, no, a laugh. He knew only one person who could laugh like that.. Turning his head, he came face to face with two glowing amber eyes staring at him. Instead of freaking out like any normal person would, Jaskier felt his heart calm down, a relieved breath leaving his lungs.

“Geralt…” he said his name like a prayer, “Are you okay?”

The witcher moved closer, dragging with him some firewood and… a deer corpse. Well, someone seemed to have a little fun in the woods. “Hm. I should be asking you that.” Geralt said, voice rough as ever but his tone, just a slightly bit higher than usual, gave away his worry. The witcher was worried about his well being!

_ How cute. _

“I’m splendid. My poor foot is falling off but I’m breathing and seeing your grumpy face always lights up my spirit!” Jaskier said trying to give the man a reassuring smile but it came out like a lopsided grimace.

“I certainly didn’t miss your voice.” Geralt replied coldly, dumping the firewood near Jaskier’s body and moving them around until the pile of sticks resembled more or less a half-decent campfire. He lightened the wood with a swift sign of Igni.

Jaskier couldn’t help the soft moan when smoky, warm air touched his freezing body. He didn’t even notice how cold he felt until now. He huddled closer to the fire, biting his lip to stop himself from screaming in pain when he dragged his injured leg after him.

“You’re in pain.” Geralt said like it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world, “Let me see.” he sat down next to Jaskier, pulling his injured leg over his lap. A giant hand carefully pulled down the bloody bandages, revealing the nasty wound underneath. Jaskier sucked in a breath when he felt fingers move over the wound, poking at it, checking the damage. Not wanting to see his wound, Jaskier focused on Geralt’s face, taking in the man’s pale complexion. The witcher’s nostrils flared sniffing him like he was a damn buffet, his cheeks flushed. He tried to turn his face away knowing that Geralt could see his red cheeks perfectly in the dark.

“And?” Jaskier’s voice came out shaky and weak. He wanted to melt into the ground and never return.

“The wound is not infected. But we should change the bandages.” Geralt replied, pushing the leg of his lap so he could get some clean bandages.

“Oh, good. Ok.” Jaskier didn’t know what to say.

_ He _ . Not knowing what to say.

That only happens every new moon! He always knew what to say around Geralt. Could stir him up or calm him down. Could make him laugh or annoy him to death. He never shuts up around Geralt, never, not in all those years they knew each other. And now, here he was, laying on his back, no way to get away and with Geralt being all… soft and warm! Caring about him! It reminded him too much of  _ his  _ Geralt, the one that didn’t lose all his fucking memories.

The one that still remembered that they were lovers…  _ partners _ .

He didn’t know what to say around this Geralt, because he had spent too much time around him behaving like a lovesick lover (which he was) and didn’t know how to get back to the good old days when they were still best friends dancing around each other in awkward circles.

Should he flirt? Or say some foolish joke about his injured leg? He was pretty sure that he went too far yesterday. Flirting with Geralt while they bathed and cuddling him in his sleep. It was normal for him but Geralt had seemed overwhelmed by his flirtatious behavior, shying away from his touches. Right now, without all his memories together, he clearly didn’t love Jaskier anymore. He couldn’t blame him, he always wondered why the white wolf would love a small, weak, annoying bard like himself. He was maybe good on the eyes but that was about all of his good qualities. 

Urgh! What was he thinking?

How often did Geralt tell him that he loved him? Okay maybe not that often, but often enough that he knew it was true. And the man showed more with his actions than with his words. He praised Jaskier’s singing in a supple way. On their travels he would look behind Roach every few minutes to check if he was still following him. Geralt would always walk close behind him whenever they entered a tavern, checking over the room before letting Jaskier go to get them some food. He would accompany him on those dreadful celebrations or wedding nights even though he hated them, just so he could protect the bard from getting thrown into the nearby dungeon by some stuck up noble man.

How could he doubt Geralt’s love for him even for a second? It wasn’t fair to him.

Jaskier had the sudden urge to pick up his lute and compose a ballad about heartbreak and loneliness. Not that he could do that while lying on his back with an already grumpy witcher around him. Maybe he could get away with saying nothing for the rest of the night, but knowing Geralt he would pick up on his silent demeanor almost instantly..

Too soon, Geralt returned with clean bandages. He put Jaskier's leg back into his lap and started applying some salve onto the open wound before binding the bandages around it. He let out a satisfied grunt when he was finished but instead of pushing Jaskier's leg away again, like the bard expected, one rough hand continued caressing it. He bit his lips when he felt thick fingers stroking his ankle. Embarrassing words wanted to escape into the air, like 'I love you' and 'never leave me'.

Jaskier closed his eyes, not able to look at Geralt any longer without bursting into tears or doing something worse, like kissing him! He still wanted to live long enough to see the sunrise, thank you very much!

Not for the first time, he wished that they would find Yennefer soon! He didn’t know how much longer he could play this terrible game of charade. He felt like his insides were dying every time he looked at Geralt’s familiar yet unfamiliar eyes. They didn’t hold the same fire anymore, like someone extinguished it and only weak, little sparks remained, fighting to keep on burning. In a lot of ways Geralt was still the same grumpy, old loner. But it was only the first layer, a thin wall hiding the bitter truth underneath.

That the witcher that fell in love with him, his witcher, was no more.

But Jaskier still loved him, dearly. 

Would forever. He was sure of that.

He would do anything for him.

“Bard.”

Jaskier’s heart jumped into his throat, a small whimper escaping his lips when he felt Geralt’s fingers tightening around his ankle. He totally forgot that he was half lying on the witcher’s lap like an obedient house cat. He jerked his head towards Geralt, swallowing when their eyes met. Feeling like he was under a badly constructed love spell, Jaskier wasn’t able to look away. He felt his body graving the man’s touch.

It isn't normal for him not to be all over Geralt at this point. They always cuddled together in front of the campfire! They would hold hands, and Jaskier would hum some stupid, lovesick songs for his witcher! He would comb his silver hair because Geralt was the worst at taking care of himself! He would patch up Geralt’s wounds whenever he got hurt after a quest! Would force him to drink one of his disgusting potions so he would heal faster and then help Geralt eat because the man always hated to eat anything after he got hurt. But it was important, and Jaskier would do anything for Geralt, even force him to eat tough meat because he loves the stupid man to death!

And Geralt… Geralt would complain with soft grunts and snarls as if he hated Jaskier cuddling him and taking care of him but then he would move closer and move a hand around Jaskier’s waist and lean down and- and-

Jaskier felt tears in his eyes, another soft whimper escaping his lips. He felt Geralt go stiff above him, his muscles locking up and the witcher’s eyebrows turning down in worry.

At least Geralt still seemed to care about him…

The fact didn’t make Jaskier’s heart any lighter.

“Jaskier, are you okay?” one big, warm hand stroked his fluffy hair away from his forehead. The touch felt too loving, too caring. Jaskier couldn’t take it.

“I- yeah. Sorry.” Jaskier coughed awkwardly trying not to sound like a wounded animal, “The wound just hurts…” he lied. His heart hurt much worse than the little scratches on his damned leg. Blinking repeatedly to force away the wetness in his eyes he tried to smile, “Is it- I mean, I feel really tired. I would like to sleep for a little bit…”

Geralt clearly didn’t believe him, and could see it in the way the man’s face scrunched up as if he swallowed a needle. His amber eyes glanced at the deer meat cooking above the campfire, asking silently.

Jaskier huffed, “I’ll eat tomorrow.” when Geralt still didn’t look convinced he couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Promise. Can I have my foot back now, oh great witcher?”

Geralt jerked his fingers away from his foot as if burned before looking down at his own hands like he didn’t even realize that he was still caressing the bard’s soft skin. Snorting at Geralt’s dumb face, he turned his back to the campfire, closing his eyes and willing himself to let go of his dark thoughts and fall asleep.

Sleep didn’t come easy. He still lay awake for a long time after Geralt finished eating, listening to the witcher lay down somewhere across from him on the other side of the campfire. As far away from him as possible. Jaskier tried not to feel hurt by it. Only when he heard the witcher’s steady breaths did his own mind decide to settle down.

Finally falling into a restless sleep.

-

Another sunrise. A new day.

Winter-cold air greeted the pair in the morning, freezing Geralt’s nose and toes through his thick boots. The witcher didn’t feel ready to face another day without his memories or the bard that didn’t know when to shut his mouth. He felt strange around Jaskier. Out of control, like a feral beast ready to jump. Like a monster lurking in the dark, stalking its next victim.    
He felt frustrated just watching Jaskier sleep on the other side of the campfire. Staring at the supple way his chest rose and fell when he breathed in deeply. Staring at his soft pink lips, slightly parted and shivering from the cold air.   
Repressing the strange urge to walk over and hug Jaskier’s delicate body against him so he could warm him with his own inhuman body heat, he instead decided to toss out the remaining sparks of their late campfire.

Growling under his breath, he stood up and began gathering their things around their makeshift camp, not caring if he woke up the bard in the process who jerked up with scared eyes when he heard Geralt trap his swords behind his back.

“Wha- What is going on?! Werewolf? Bandits?!”

“Getting Ready.” Geralt retorted like the cave-man he was, words sounding more angry than he intended. He felt Jaskier eyes on him, burning into his back like two arrows. Rolling his stiff shoulders he turned around leveling the confused bard with an irritated look, “I said. Get. Ready.”

Jaskier’s face fell, lips quivering in a way that was clearly not caused by the cold before he averted his eyes towards the ground, hiding his blue (beautiful, wonderful sky-blue) eyes from him. Geralt instantly wanted to take his words back. Wanted to erase the sad expression on Jaskier’s face.

Why was he so angry with Jaskier?

He just felt so irritated. With the bard for being… so…so...

Geralt looked up at the sky in bone-deep frustration.

He heard rustling next to him, knowing that the bard was getting ready like he was told but he didn’t dare look at him, afraid that he would still see his sad expression.

Balling his hands into fists he turned away and walked towards Roach, picking up her saddle on the way.

There was no need to mourn over his own incapability to express his feelings. They had a witch to find and a curse to break.

Two hours on the road and Geralt was ready to pluck out his hair. Jaskier was acting strange, not playing his lute, not singing, not humming, not even talking. 

He was silent.

So silent that it was unnerving to Geralt and he wished nothing more than for things to go back to normal and hear the man’s lovely voice. He would rather pick the man’s endless chatter over this unnerving silence. It didn’t feel right for Jaskier to be so subdued like a puppet who got his strings cut. Something was bothering him and Geralt was pretty sure it had something to do with his behavior this morning.

Because of the bard’s injury, Geralt had no other choice but to let him ride Roach with him. Strangely enough his loyal mare didn’t seem to mind the man, even seeming to perk up a little bit, her steps feeling a little lighter, faster. Geralt on the other hand minded it… a lot.   
He could feel Jaskier’s breath on his neck sending little shivers down his back and he could feel the way the bard’s delicate fingers digged into the skin of his chest. Suddenly the shirt he was wearing wasn’t enough of a barrier and he wished he had put on his amor before starting their journey.

But what bothered him the most was the way Jaskier tried not to touch him as little as possible. The man was almost falling off the horse with how much he was leaning away from him. Did Geralt truly disgust him so much? Just days ago they bathed together and now Jaskier seemed to be struggling with being on the same horse with him.

Maybe he had finally scared the man away with his… inhuman qualities. Really. It was only a matter of time. He should have seen it coming, there was no way he could have such a pure relationship with anyone, most of all with a simple bard. Sooner or later he always scares everyone away.

Not human enough and yet not beast enough either. The uncanny middle.

That was the bitter lifestyle of a mutant…

A memory rushed through his head.

_ “-and then, of course, I told the devilish man to fuck off to his cows!” Jaskier grinned brightly causing the witcher to show his own, rare smile. _

_ “How noble of you. Very brave.” he said, sarcasm dripping from his lips like a fountain. _

_ Jaskier’s smirk fell, dark storm clouds passing over his face, “...You don’t believe me…” he pouted. Not cute at all. No. Not at all. _

**_Fuck_ ** _. _

_ Geralt was so done for. _

_ Jaskier said something else but Geralt didn’t catch it, his attention averted to a group of rough looking men sitting in the opposite corner of the tavern. They were looking at them, at the white wolf to be specific, their eyes burning with hidden disgust and anger. Geralt instantly knew that they couldn’t stay in the tavern any longer without meeting the sharp end of a sword. But they just arrived half an hour ago, and Jaskier was still so exhausted from their long journey, the man finally having a moment to relax after being on the road for three days straight. Geralt didn’t want to pull the man out of his comforting bubble just yet. _

_ Jaskier seemed so at ease in the middle of a rowdy tavern, drinking in the rustle of people around them and smiling from ear to ear. Like he didn’t want to be anywhere else but here, around other people and not on the road with only a grumpy witcher as his company. _

_ He looked so perfect, so happy, Geralt didn’t want to disturb him. _

_ So he didn’t say anything to the angry looking man scanning them. Not yet, he wanted to see Jaskier so happy and comfortable for a little bit longer. _

_ Of course all good things must come to an end. It just seemed like Geralt’s happy moments were always cut especially short. _

_ “-so you can’t tell me I’m not a noble and brave-  _ Geralt _?” Jaskier raised his voice, catching the witcher’s attention once again, “What- what’s wrong?” he turned his head, looking over his shoulder at whatever Geralt found oh so interesting. The bard hissed in a breath when he noticed the angry group of men, “Well, they don’t seem happy to see us.” he whispered. _

_ And as if Jaskier’s words were some kind of signal, the men suddenly stood up, pulling out their weapon which gleamed in the low tavern light. _

_ Jaskier sucked in another breath, “Maybe we should go. Like right now. Come, Geralt.” his delicate fingers wrapped around the mutant’s wrist, without hesitation, without fear. _

_ Geralt, of course, didn’t bother pulling out his swords and devent them. He didn’t want to spill human blood, most of all not in front of Jaskier. So he let the bard pull him out of the tavern before the men could start a fight. _

_ Only after they were a good chunk away from the tavern did Geralt dare to speak up. Jaskier had been strangely silent, walking without once touching his beloved instrument. Not liking the silence, Geralt forced himself to start a conversation, “I’m sorry that we had to cut our visit short.” he grumbled. _

_ He saw Jaskier’s head jerk up from the corner of his eyes, the bard looking at him with wide shocked eyes. Geralt had the strange urge to continue, to explain further, so he did, “I know that you love… being around other people.” a pause, no word from Jaskier, “You always seem much happier whenever we visit a tavern or stay in an inn and-” _

_ “Oh for fuck shakes, shut up already, you stupid idiot!” _

_ Geralt stopped in his tracks and gave the man his most displeased look. Jaskier wasn’t scared in the slighted. Fuck. _

_ “Just for your info,  _ Geralt _ ,” Jaskier grumbled, “I don’t like visiting taverns or inns because I get to see other people. Of course it is nice to meet new people and play in front of a crowd every once in a while, but that isn’t the good damn reason why I’m happy!” he went on, ignoring Geralt’s raised eyebrow, clearly not believing him. The bard just rolled his eyes as if the other man was the most  _ _ brainless  _ _ creature in the universe. _

_ Maybe he was. _

_ “I  _ Like  _ it, because I get to spend time with you in an actually comfortable location without fearing that something will attack us at night. Also having real food on the table and feeling warm and comfortable is a nice bonus.” he shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like he just didn’t shatter Geralt’s entire world view. _

_ And because he was a dumb man and his brain seemed to have stopped working sometime during Jaskier’s little speach, all he could say was, “I would never let anything attack us- you when we’re camping outside.” _

_ And then Jaskier looked at him as if he just said the most romantic thing he's ever heard. Practically melting in front of the giant man, his beautiful, wonderful, eyes shining brightly. He walked forward and petted the white wolf on the cheek tenderly, “I know.” he breathed between them, like a promise. _

Geralt shook his head wildly, the memory disappearing like a burst bubble. Some strange yet familiar feeling curled  around his chest, making his heart speed up. The memory, just like all the other ones he experienced, were centered around the bard.

His insides felt warm, and Geralt overcame the strange urge to take one of Jaskier’s delicate hands and… and what exactly? Hold hands? No. He couldn’t. Not only wouldn’t Jaskier react positively to such an action but it was also too pure. The simple gesture was far too pure and innocent for a man who murdered human and beasts and cold blood. Too pure for someone who didn’t deserve any of Jaskier’s sweet words and touches.

Shaking his head as if to get rid of a rather nasty headache, he pulled Roach rains a little harder, urging her to walk a little faster. 

He hoped they would reach the next village soon. He couldn’t stand to ride on the same horse as Jaskier a minute longer.

His back felt like it was burning.

And his heart felt like it was bursting into pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my readers! Thank you for patiently waiting for a new update! I read all of the nice comments and it always gives me a burst of inspiration whenever I go over them again!
> 
> This time I decided to write a short Chapter in Jaskier's Pov. I wanted the reader to know how the bard was holding up with the whole situation! And to get a little more into the bard's head. Jaskier is always fun to write!
> 
> I love all of you! And see u all in the next chapter! :)


End file.
